


your nico

by standingappa



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Established Relationship, Love Letters, M/M, Pre-Canon, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, was Going Through some catholic stuff when i wrote this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:33:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25953004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/standingappa/pseuds/standingappa
Summary: There is nothing keeping us apart but time, a blessing we have in multitudes, my love—my life, my love, my sun.The love letters of Nicolò di Genova, written through the ages.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 3
Kudos: 26





	your nico

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> latin translations in end notes.

NICOLÒ ABATE

_Genoa, Italy, 1800_

Amor meus,

It is nice here. Genova is so similar to the way I remember it, but not quiet. The streets through the heart of the city and the slope of the hills are the same, but as if drawn by a different artist’s hand, who only knew Genova through stories they had been told. It is strange to see. Children run and play in the same slender alleys as I did, young men meander in the seminary where I was once trained, but I cannot seem to see them. They are right there in front of me, their smiles in the sun and laughter in the air, and yet they seem so far away—just the barest echo of them lives in me now. They are youthful and hopeful and cannot wait to grow up, an eagerness to squeeze the most out of every moment urging them forward, an eagerness I no longer know.

In the Church, bishops are created by bishops, handed down from like noble titles from father to son—how man hands as Genova passed through since I called it my own? What does it mean, that I cannot remember what is it to live like them? They kneel before the alter and cross themselves where I once prostrated and was ordained, the same prayers and hymns on their lips, yet the solemn devotion in their eyes now seem something as foreign to me as the century that has just dawned.

Who was I when I walked these streets, before I had ever known there could be a person in the world who could look upon me as if I were strung from light, a thing of beauty? I was just a boy born of Genova as winter weaned. My mother was Elena, my father was Andrea, both dead before I could commit them to memory. I was a priest at twenty-four; I vowed to be impoverished, I vowed to be celibate, I vowed to be obedient. (All three, at some point or another, I have broken for you. I was disobedient when I left with you before I even knew you at all, two strangers beneath foreign skies. I was not celibate when I promised _coram Deo_ I love you in eternity, before all else. I am the least impoverished man in the world when you are in my sight, I want for nothing when you are at my side.) (Nothing like you was ever meant to happen to a man like me.)

These were once the threads that made the fabric of my self; now there is only you, your touch, your golden words in my ear. Sine te, sum pulvis et umbara. I cannot put it into words, the blessing you have given me. I once believed as I had been told—that I was good because I was tried and survived and deemed worthy, because I gave my life to serve, because I was willing to die for them.

I was worthy before I sacrificed and suffered, before I knew sorrow; I am good because I do good in the world, I am good because I hope to be kind, I am good because I love you. _I love you, I love you, I love you._

I loved you before I could put words to the feeling, but do you know how I knew? I do not really remember where, nor when, it does not matter—all that matters is that I learned to see you as you saw me. This is what I know: my sword was drawn, blood of a man slain still hot on my cheeks. You reached for me, my wounds still raw and bloody, looked at me with your soul in your eyes and took my sword from my shaking hands. I felt it then, when your hands touched mine—that I had been born again, the world more than just the place I lived. The stars themselves changed, no longer just distant bursts of light in the night sky—they became constellations, with stories to tell. Your word became my creed, your love my covenant.

I would make the world anew if it decided there was no place for you. You are more than the love of my life, you are destiny and fate made human, all the beautiful and lovely things in the world. We mock the cruelties of the world by being.

I will be in your arms before this letter is in your hands; I cannot wait to feel your warm embrace. There are miles between us, and yet when I wake in the morning, you are my anchor, the only real thing in the world—I know you before I know myself. You are the light of my days, and I cannot hope to be whole without you. I may be lost, darling, but without hope, for I know you will be mine to hold soon. There is nothing keeping us apart but time, a blessing we have in multitudes, my love—my love, my life, my sun.

Te amo. Sic semper erat, et sic semper erit.

Your Nico

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> amor meus — my love  
> coram deo — before god  
> sine te, sun pulvis et umbara — without you, i am dust and shadow  
> te amo. sic semper erat, et sic semper erit — i love you. thus it always was, thus it will always be.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!!!
> 
> you can find me on tumblr @nickyjoe.


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